


Personal Log of my Life

by JKSketchy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eavesdropping, M/M, Personal Log, USS Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JKSketchy/pseuds/JKSketchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Jim plans to be a Captain one day, and Captains are expected to keep logs, Pike figures it's best to get Jim used to the concept of talking to himself while he's still at the academy.</p><p>Len, being Jim's roommate, isn't so keen on the idea.</p><p>** For lostinthebabylon, USS Secret Santa</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Log of my Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Subaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subaru/gifts).



Leonard was just getting back from Xenobiology and dang if he wasn’t dead on his feet. It’d been a long time since he’d been a schoolboy dammit, he wasn’t cut out for these all-night cram sessions anymore. But the test was done now and stressing over it wouldn’t raise his grade now. Now he could crash and not get up again until the weekend was—

“…com…good…I can…”

Jim? Dammit, if he brought somebody home again—

Leonard clenched his eyes shut and entered his access code. ‘ _Please be decent. Please be decent. Please be—‘_

“—finish with Xenolinguistics, which will be a huge asset in command. Plus I have a friend specializing in… well she probably wouldn’t call _me_ her friend, but she’s hot and getting to know her would be a plus. So with Xenoling out of the way I’ll be able to—”

The lack of shrieking or projectile clothes being lobbed at his head were both good signs, so he wearily cracked an eye open to see a fully-clothed—there _is_ a god—Jim, lying back on his bed comfortably, legs crossed, PADD in hand, talking conversationally about school life and friends as if his mother were in the room with him.

‘Cept she wasn’t.

“—ctical Analysis, which can’t be as hard as everyone’s been saying it is. But just in case it’s probably best to keep the number of classes low that semester, or at least the workload. Maybe Earth History would be a good match—”

But then who’s Jim talking to?

 _‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,’_ Leonard thought to himself, scanning the room for any signs of visitors. But there were no book bags he didn’t recognize, no shoes that weren’t his, no jackets tossed aside, and from what he could see no persons in the room other than Jim and himself.

Jim smiled and waved for him to come in as Len has remained firmly planted in the doorway, “—grade school. So I’m thinking I’m on a good track in order to get all the necessary classes completed in the three-year time frame. The only issue would be if for some reason I have an issue getting into Tactical Analysis because of the waved prerequisite, but I’ll get that signed off in the next—”

He faced Leonard, continuing the stream of speech as if he’d been speaking to him all along, gesturing with his hands. “—then there’s just to pass Interspecies Ethics, which shouldn’t be a problem at all. So far the semester is off to a good start. Classes are an adequate level of challenging but the cadets could be more lively—”

Leonard opened his mouth to speak, in all honestly not quite sure what there was to say, when Jim held up a finger without breaking sentence.

“—more to learn that I’d originally anticipated, not that I’m deterred. It may take some time, but the classes are really fascinating, particularly Interspecies Protocol and Astrosci—”

After some time of watching Jim go on about Interspecies Ethics, staring blankly ahead, Leonard finally decided that if Jim wanted to take up this new hobby of talking to ghosts then it wasn’t worth losing anymore sleep over.

So he abruptly fell into bed, lulled to sleep rather haphazardly to Jim’s thoughts on Astrophysics.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“It’s for my Command Track project,” Jim told him the next morning, when Len wasn’t so sleep deprived that he could actually form words for how unsettling it was to come home to find your roommate monologuing. “Pike suggested it.”

“And how exactly does sounding batshit crazy help you become a Starfleet captain? Is there some big secret in command? That the whole lot of you have lost your marbles?”

“It’s a _log_ Bones, geez!” he said, waving his PADD around. “It’s a perfectly normal thing to keep, expected even. Captain’s need to keep logs for themselves, for the ship, for security purposes, for medical—see, you’ll have to do this too someday. And a lot of people just keep personal logs for just, I don’t know, whatever they want.”

“Personal logs? What, like a journal?” Leonard wasn’t always a fan of all this technology garbage. Medical advances sure, but everything else— “That’s what typing is for! People write journals about things they don’t want to _talk_ about, that’s the whole point aint it?”

“Logs are for _records_ Bones, they’re not diaries,” but a grin started to worm its way onto his face. “Bones did you… did you keep one? A diary?”

“Oh don’t say it like I’m some grade school girl, I kept a journal yeah. For a time.” A time back when his marriage was failing and his father lie on his deathbed. “But I wrote it down, didn’t talk to myself like some lonely fool.”

“Space can get lonely Bones,” and he cast his eyes away. “People need to talk to someone, even if it’s just themselves. Might as well start getting used to it.”

And if that’s wasn’t a heart-breaking thought. But space was where Jim longed to be, obvious as the nose on his face. Even more so if he was willing to push aside his love of people, of human contact, to do so.

“It aint gonna be just you out there kid, you know that,” Len told him. “You’ll always have your crew.”

He shrugged, didn’t even put much effort into the motion, and faked a smile. “Maybe. But being forced to work together doesn’t always mean friends are made.” And when Jim’s eyes meet Len’s he could see the way they hung, the way they drooped.

And as much as Len might’ve loved the kid he’d no right to tell Jim everyone else would too. There were just some people in this world—and others—that friends just couldn’t be made out of.

But he knew damn well that Jim didn’t deserve to be stuck in space a whole crew of such people.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It seemed to Leonard that no matter how many tests he took there was always another waiting for him within the week. Don’t these teachers _realize_ he has other classes to attend? It’s only half way through the semester, why do they—

“Captian’s Log, Stardate two-one uh… hey Bones, do you know what the stardate is?”

Plus Len had _this_ to deal with. “Two-oh-nine-oh-six point, I dunno five?” Two months into this project and he was ready to strangle Jim, listening to him record the status of his daily life. How his grades were, what he wore that date, what he ate for breakfast. Len himself was a common topic, ranging from narrating his goings-on to rating his level of annoyance.

Right now—out of ten—it’d be about a 7.

“Stardate 20906.5,” and the way Jim deepens his voice in an effort to sound official would be a lot funnier if Leonard wasn’t about to flunk out of Exochemistry. “All is right as rain, midterms are just winding down”—so _that’s_ where all those tests were coming from—“meaning my logs will be submitted tomorrow, as I’m sure my ROOMMATE is happy to hear.”

Leonard lifted his head out of his hands long enough to say, “Praise the lord.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Finally the day was over and done with. Len had been looking forward to some well-earned weekend-long hibernating, but when he opened the door to see Jim having a riveting one-sided conversation with his PADD all thoughts of sleep went out the window.

“I thought you were done with that damn project!” Len accused, probably louder than necessary.

Jim’s failure to hide his laughter was appalling. “I am! Sent it off to Pike this morning.”

“Then what is God’s name are you doing now?”

“I liked it, I’m keeping a personal log.”

“Well shut your yap and do it when the sun’s up,” Len told him as he shed his clothes.

“But I’m not thinking about stuff when the sun’s up.”

“You don’t think about _anything_ ever.”

“Oh come on Bones, you know what I mean. Don’t your thoughts ever keep you up? Isn’t it ever hard to sleep?”

“ _Your_ thoughts are what make it hard to sleep!” he protests. “But go on, get it over with, make it short.”

Jim’s teeth shined in the light of the PADD as he leaned forward, eyes on Leonard, and whispered, “Dear Santa.”

And oh god he was NOT serious.

In the giddiest, mockingly-childlike voice Len ever heard Jim mustered, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but for Christmas I want—”

“If you value your life,” Leonard interrupted, for the first time ever during one of Jim’s logs. “At ALL. Ask for your roommate NOT to murder you in your sleep after smashing all your damn PADDS.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As it turns out the kid aint got a lick’a shame in him, had no quarrels with speakin’ his innermost feeling aloud for just his PADD and roommate to witness.

At two in the morning no less.

“Personal Log, stardate 20976.9.”

“I can’t help wondering sometimes if it wasn’t for the best, for them. What with my dad dying the way he had, him and my mom never really got the chance to grow apart. She’ll always remember him as the perfect, self-sacrificing husband he always was. But who’s to say they wouldn’t have split if he’d stuck around? Wouldn’t have changed?”

“I wonder what Sam’s up to sometimes, it’s been a long time since I heard from him last. But I suppose at least part of that is my doing, running off and all. I didn’t exactly leave him any way to contact me, and he’ll never look for me here. Nobody will.”

“Heh… that’s actually doesn’t sound so bad. I once thought following my dad’s footsteps would just add more weight onto my life, but doing so has actually let me leave everything behind. I’m a new man, can do whatever I set my mind to. And found myself doing what my old man loved best.”

He let out a broken chuckle. “…thanks Dad.”

And the oddest thing about it all was that Len didn’t feel like he was welcome to respond. Cause those words weren’t spoken to him. So instead Len just did his darndest to sleep as Jim therapeutically spilled his guts.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“…worth it… family…gave up so I could be here. Born in space.”

Jim’s voice grew louder as Leonard woke. He hadn’t the slightest what time it is, only knew that the sky said he should still be sleeping.

Jim continued his log in a hushed voice, quieter than Len ever heard him talk to his PADD before. He had to strain to listen.

“My dad, dad I never knew, died out there. For his crew. Could it be too much to hope that he cared about them, really cared? Sure my mom was on board too, I guess he must’ve cared about her. But I like to think… I hope it wasn’t just for us. We’re a disgrace of a legacy to leave, a dropout son and a neglec… I hope he loved his crew too, that he wanted their lives to go on just as badly. Maybe they’ve made something more of his sacrifice than I have.”

Len rolled over to face Jim and found that he’d been sitting on the edge of his bed staring at him, gripping his PADD tightly like it might fly off without him.

“What it must be like,” he whispered, holding Leonard’s eyes. “To have people in your life that you’re willing to die for.”

They didn’t move, either of them, and for the love of God Len wished he knew what to say because in that moment Len realized just how badly he doesn’t want Jim dying for _anybody_. Jim was more worthy of this world than any other cadet there. But he’d do it—the self-sacrificing bastard that he was— he’d give his life for just about anyone in a heartbeat.

And one day Len was gonna have to read about it, the way everyone read about the Kirk that came before. In the obituaries.

“Sorry,” Jim said to the floor. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” He stood, setting the PADD on his desk. He seemed lost for a moment, looking around in the dark for sweats to sleep in, and having difficulty working them on once he found them. But he managed and curled up on his side, leaving the room the quietest it’s ever been.

“Don’t be sorry,” Len whispered back.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Leonard still couldn’t grasp it. Speaking words without anyone there to hear them felt almost like just speaking to the world, leavin’ words out there for anyone to just come along and pick up. ‘Cept these words weren’t meant for just anybody. They were personal, heartfelt. Leonard might wear his heart on his sleeve, but he wasn’t an open book for anyone to root through as they pleased.

But he was hurtin’ something awful and talking about it with anyone—specifically Jim—was out of the question.

So instead he pulled out his PADD and opened the log app.

“Personal Log. Uh… I aint never done one ‘a these things before, so bear with me a little here. Jim’s been doin’ these things for months and damn he makes it look easy. But I’ve gone and started now so I suppose it’s too late to stop.”

“I uh… I dunno, class is good. Wait, no, scratch that. Class is worse than Thanksgivin’ without the turkey, I got this monster of a paper due in Biochemistry next week that aint got more than a sentence to its name. But here I am, talkin’ to myself like the loon I said I’d never be.”

He groans, rubbing his eyes. “But that’s life I guess. Has its ups and downs. To most ‘a my classmates this one’s supposed to be an up. Guess I missed the memo.”

“I uh… my roommate, my best pal Jim. He uh… well, we’re graduatin’ soon. In a few months. I’m goin’ and getting’ ahead of myself, really. But he’ll be out in the black, all by his lonesome. What if something happens to him and I aint there to fix it? Lord knows he’s got more allergies than a mutt has flees, and it don’t help that he’s always going and jumping without lookin’ and…”

“And dammit if he goes… if he goes and gets himself killed I might not even know,” and Len hadn’t even thought of that till now but it’s true. Who knows where he’ll end up, where Jim’ll be flyin’ off to, how many lightyears in between. Len knows there can be lag, even with modern communications, over distances that great. Jim could die and word would take weeks to reach Starfleet, let alone how long it could take for word to reach some lowly doctor like him. And that’s assuming word even does get out at all, damn ship could just combust one day out in the black and nobody’d know the better.

But this is everything that kid’s worked so damn hard for, what kinda friend was Leonard not to be happy for him.

“Oh and uh…” He blinks a few tears away. “It’s stardate, like, twenty-one thousand somethin’ or whatever.” Len tapped his screen, ending the recording.

Well, _that_ went well.

He glared at his PADD, the “Personal Log [1]” tab glowing back at him. He tapped it.

“ _Personal Log,”_ says the PADD in an obnoxiously broken drawl that supposed to be Len. “ _Uh… I aint never done—_ “

Delete.

Len’s pretty sure this aint how these log things are supposed to work, but he’ll be damned if he lets another soul hear him soundin’ so pitiful. And after all that work it hadn’t really helped much at all.

“Hey Bones.” Len drops the PADD into his lap. Jim stood in the doorway lookin’ too scared to step any closer.

“Jim.” Len said, and his voice was softer than he’d’ve liked. “Hey.”

“Whatcha doing?” Jim asked without interest, eyes on his PADD.

“Oh uh, it’s nothing,” Len mumbled, unwilling to set the PADD down. “Stupid, really, is what it is. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” Jim shoved his hands into his pockets, finding great fascination in the corners of the ceiling. “I was just uh… Bones you know we… we do need _doctors_ in space.”

Oh god, Jim heard him. “Do they now?” Len replied, and it’s a wonder the words actually manage to tumble out of his mouth.

But obviously Jim was too busy staring at his shoes to notice Leonard’s mortification. “I know space wasn’t ever really your thing,” he says. “But uh… I mean, if you’re worried about the doctors on board forgetting I’m allergic to Retinax V or the Melvaran mud flea vaccine or whatever, you could always…” He huffed out a sigh, his eyes latching onto Len in what looked just this side of painful. “Captains _can_ put in requests for CMOs after all, it’d be a shame not to… not to put that to use.”

“Jim, Jim are you…” and Len wasn’t sure where these words were coming from when he couldn’t breathe. “Are you askin’ what I think ‘ur askin’?”

“You don’t have to answer now or anything,” his eyes having fallen back to his feet. “You can always think about it, get back to me later. This is space we’re talking about after all.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” Len told him. “Damn fool that you are, bustin’ yourself up day in and day out. If you’re planning to last even one year out there with a ship of your own—the way I see it—you’ve no choice but to take me with you.”

“No choice you say,” Jim grinned at his feet.

“No,” Len grabbed his hand, feelin’ how Jim’s shakes. He squeezed the shivers away. “None whatsoever.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't really do fanfics much anymore and was just gonna draw a picture for the Secret Santa, but I had the idea and all and it just kinda happened. Anyway, I hope you like it lostinthebabylon! Happy Holidays!


End file.
